


if the fates allow

by Destina



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 15:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17124332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: Rhodey has a way of giving Tony perspective on the events of his life.





	if the fates allow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zortified (james)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts).



> For james' prompt: _Tony and Rhodey, making new Christmas traditions (explosions optional)._

Over the years, as Tony set various parts of his workshop on fire, burned it down, saw it destroyed in a terrorist attack, and so on, he was damn glad he'd learned never to become attached to material things. Sure, he loved the cars, and he loved his bots. But he loved Pepper and Happy and Rhodey most of all, and everything else could be replaced. Expensive paintings never hung in his residences after the Malibu incident, and everything else was insured. 

Photos could be reprinted, stuck in frames, and thrown onto shelves and walls. 

One photo, in particular. 

He'd had the photo for years before someone noticed it. It had been everywhere he'd been, in every workshop and place of residence, since the first time he'd opened a project file titled Unnamed Flight Suit. Always good to have something to remind him. How precious life was. How short. What he was fighting for. Why he bothered, on those days his ears were ringing and his ribs were hurting, and the world was turned upside down. 

They'd been arguing, him and Rhodey. About something dumb, nothing memorable. It was always like that with the two of them. 

"Who's this?" Rhodey had asked, picking up the photo in its plain silver frame. Tony, one minute before his life changed forever; Corporal Jimmy Sheckley, throwing up a peace sign with a shit-eating grin, to his left. 

The camera had been partially melted and its contents kept back from the family, but that was no impediment to someone like Tony Stark. Everything inside it had made its way onto Tony's private server the day after he learned it had been recovered. He had his ways. Money opened doors. 

_You should remember_ , he'd wanted to say, but that wasn't fair. Rhodey hadn't been in that vehicle, or in charge of the convoy. He had only marginally been in charge of Tony; that hadn't worked out well. It had been years. And it wasn't unexpected, that a soldier would die in service to his country. Except, this one didn't. He died trying to save an arms manufacturer. Very valuable to the country. Every time he saw that kid's face - all those kids' faces - he wanted to puke, or go back in time and build Iron Man all over again. 

Maybe that's what he'd been doing all these years, anyway. Building it better, to repel aliens and Mandarins and unnecessary death all around him. 

"Convoy," Tony had said, reaching out for the picture. 

Rhodey had looked at the picture, then at Tony again, his eyes narrowed, before he'd handed it back. "Bad day," was all he'd said. The worst day ever; that, and all the days that followed, all Rhodey's searching and Tony's suffering, and Yinsen...all those things he and Rhodey had never talked about. And never would. 

"Bad day," Tony had agreed. 

Tony had put the picture back on the shelf, and that had been the end of it. Or so Tony thought.

Christmas Eve rolled around with Tony still in his workshop, and Pepper off doing whatever she filled her time with now that they were taking a break, whatever that meant. Tony had no desire to parse it. He had enough pains in his heart, he wasn't about to set off some kind of chain reaction in there.

He barely glanced up when Rhodey overrode the security protocols and let himself in. Rhodey had been invading his space since they were kids together at MIT; he'd earned the right a hundred times over. 

"Why are you here? Don't you have someplace festive to be?" Tony asked, elbow-deep in a new gauntlet prototype. 

"Yes," Rhodey said, strolling past him to the keybox. He opened it up and stared in thoughtfully for a moment, then selected the keys to the lovingly restored Porsche 959 Coupe. Not surprising; gunmetal grey was sort of Rhodey's thing. "And so do you. Let's go."

"Nope, no can do, I am extremely occupied right now, but thanks for playing." Tony pointed his hand to the left and let off a small repulsor test blast, wiping out the mini-fridge and a couple cases of energy drinks. Dum-E scooted over to the scene and began beeping mournfully over the mess, waving a rag at it instead of actually cleaning it up. Tony rolled his eyes and avoided looking at Rhodey, who was edging closer with a determined look on his face. 

"Since when do I ever ask you for anything?" Rhodey demanded. 

"Since...actually never, you just steal my stuff and give it weird names like Iron Patriot," Tony said. He tapped the release on the gauntlet and it retracted to bracelet.

"It's War Machine again now. Also I did not steal it, I removed it from a hazardous situation, and by the way, I offered it back to you after you were done losing your damn mind, which - why are we even talking about this, get in the car," Rhodey said, folding his arms over his navy blue polo shirt. 

Tony threw his arms out, the better to draw attention to his amazing yet grease-covered physique. "Irresistible, I know, but I put out faster on a date once I'm showered and fed."

"You don't need a shower, just...wipe the worst of the grease off and let's go." 

Dum-E, like the miracle he was, sped closer to wave his unused rag in Tony's face. With a long-suffering sigh, Tony took it and wiped down his face and arms, and then looked to Rhodey for approval. 

"It'll do. Come on." Rhodey was already heading for the garage. Tony picked up his overshirt and threw it on, and trotted after Rhodey to the car. 

They were well into the drive, north of New York and into the Hudson River Valley, when Tony realized where they were headed. "No," he said, twisting in the seat to glare at Rhodey. "No, no, you do not get to spring this on me, there's a reason I don't-"

"I get it," Rhodey said. "I do. But you need to see for yourself what a difference it's made."

"I definitely do not need to see it and how did you find out about it, anyway?"

"Pepper," Rhodey said. And of course, Pepper; she was the one who'd made all the arrangements, who'd sent the invitations, who made sure the disbursements were paid.

"She's a narc," Tony said, sullen. 

"Grow up," Rhodey said, though of course that was the entire point. 

The event was in a barn, apparently - a nice barn, but still a barn, illuminated with warm yellow light and covered with garlands and greenery, and there were people milling around outside. A few familiar faces among them - Tony spotted Nat, and Steve, in civilian clothes. He hadn't known they attended, but it made sense. 

"This is your thing, now? Forced party attendance?" Tony said, but it was feeble at best, and Rhodey had already parked and was out of the car, and waiting in the gravel road. He could feel the specter of an anxiety attack creeping over him, so he took a deep breath, and forced himself to think about innocuous things, like swimming in a calm - no, water bad, definitely not the right direction for his thoughts to go, he had the spare suit in the trunk, there was always a suit nearby now, maybe he should put it on and-

Rhodey knocked on the window. "Get out of your head, let's go," he said. 

Tony shuddered, but he got out obediently and went to face his doom. 

There was a good crowd, probably a couple hundred or so. Cobbled together from the detritus of his past misdeeds, and the good deeds gone wrong as well. Families he'd never met - Corporal Sheckley's among them, and Ramirez and Pratt's families, and all the other soldiers who'd died that day. Families of cops and firemen killed during the Incident while they tried to help others and stay out of the way. He didn't want to meet them, didn't want to know them. He - he-

"Hey Tony," came an uncomfortably familiar voice from in front of him. He looked down, and there was Harley Keener, small smile on his face, with an extremely ugly red and green sweater wound around his neck. He was taller. Was he taller? Of course he was; it had been a while. He was probably hitting a growth spurt or something. 

"Hey kid," he said, ignoring the unexpected lump in his throat. There were nearly a million dollars in Harley's trust for college and whatever else the kid genius wanted to tackle after that. He didn't know it yet, though. Right now he was just there having cookies. They were all there for the cookies, and to be with each other, and to know they weren't alo-

\--okay, Rhodey had a point, even though he was a giant asshole about it. 

"Nice of you to finally show up," the kid said. "Glad you're not bleeding," and okay, suddenly Tony could breathe, the sass on that kid was extreme. He knew he liked him for a reason. 

"Well, come on," Harley added, "don't you have some money to give away or something?" He offered Tony a chocolate chip cookie, slightly bent and wilted from being carried around in a pocket. Tony stared at it for a moment, and then almost as if his hand had a mind of its own, let the kid hand it to him. He took a bite; it couldn't be worse than a tuna sandwich made with Miracle Whip on stale white bread. 

"You win," he said to Rhodey. 

"Of course I do," Rhodey said, clapping him on the shoulder. "By the way, I already put this on your calendar for next year," he added, a nasty gleam in his eye. 

"We should go inside, because all the people are actually inside, I don't know if you were aware," Harley said, and Tony rolled his eyes again, because he could and because people were noticing him, now, and though they were hanging back, he could see their faces, shining with curiosity and excitement. Faces he knew from dossiers and briefings, from files he'd carefully compiled. 

He glanced up at the banner over the barn. _Sheckley Foundation Annual Christmas Bash_ , it read. He hadn't named it for himself. But he was accountable, because he wanted to be. Because it mattered. Because money meant nothing, unless it was used to fix what had been broken. 

Rhodey was always there for him, by his side; he was all good. Better than good -- he was a superhero in his own right now, and an Avenger. Pepper was safe and independent, running SI. She was good, too. And Happy continued being a pain in his ass, so that was status quo. Tony was a lucky bastard, and he knew better now than to take it for granted. Just like all those people crowding the wide-open barn doors, waiting for him to join them. 

Harley was tugging at his sleeve. "Lead the way," Tony said, and followed Rhodey and Harley into a welcoming sea of smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Set vaguely somewhere between IM 3 and CW. I don't think soldier Jimmy has a last name in canon, but I needed one for the story, so now he does. :)


End file.
